New Leaf
by tomatosenpai
Summary: A mellowing peek into a depressing future. Contains mature themes. Oneshot. (Originally entitled 'In the End')


A dingy yellow strand of hair clung to the pale off-white cheeks supporting a youthful pair of glistening, bright ocean-blue pupils. Hungry stares from the younger men aboard the train would lead one to think this girl were five years younger, in the prime of adolescence. Occasional glances from the eyes of the much wiser, not-so-salacious fellow adults suggested quite the opposite. She was young in physicality, yes, but not in spirit. Her hips forged a shape like that of an hourglass. Her lips, when gazed upon long enough, would surely elicit explicit fantasies within the minds of even the most prudish of scrutinizing teenagers. Save for a slowly receding line of subtly lightening blonde hair, her external appearance was no less dazzling than it was those five long years ago.

Yet inside, twenty-six-year-old Toshinou Kyouko felt... empty. Not the emptiness felt after a loss, mind you. Not the same emptiness everyone comes to know from a young age; not the despair, or the disappointment, or any other kind of negative emotion. While appearing bright and shining, forever youthful, and acting the part each and every day, she felt only as if she were following the paces - like no reward felt earned, nor any accomplishment worthwhile.

However she may feel about them, the rewards and accolades were plentiful. The two-bedroom apartment she had all to herself with a full artist's studio and lounge room in the heart of Tokyo was nice, as were the serialization and widely positive reception of her manga. "You're doing well," her acquaintances and distant family would say. The closer friends usually gave more personal encouragement, such as the, "I'm so happy for you!" she had heard ten-too-many times, most often over the phone. Be all that as it may, the truly important people seemed to be the least involved in Kyouko's life, through no choice of her own. The immediate family was the first to go, her single mother leaving this world nearly three years ago, after having battled cancer for the final few seasons of her life. It was then that Kyouko chose to descend into this impulsive spiral of work and social disconnection, removing herself from the concerns of friends and family and love.

And only now was she realizing it, during an ordinary train ride home. The passing of her mother had not been lost on her, nor had the stress of abandoning university and caring for her beforehand. No, the revelation staring Kyouko in the face, dragging the breath from her lungs at the moment was o _f herself._ Certainly she was aware of her reflection in the mirror, the paling yellow atop her head and the way her eyelids seemed lower by comparison to old photos, as well as the physical symptoms such as her slumping posture and how sore her feet would be after just a short walk, or how on some days her body would let her do nothing more than lay in bed, unmoving. The silent snippets of self-deprecation concerning her accelerated aging occasionally flickered across her conscious mind, but she input little thought into them.

The train stopped and the monotonous voice recording declared the name of her desired station. As Kyouko shuffled with a small crowd toward the exit doors, one particularly curious young male seated to her right incidentally achieved eye contact, immediately blushing and turning away. At one time, specifically around the time of her university's entrance ceremonies, the blonde had begun noticing how frequently she would "turn heads" like that, so to speak. And at that time, despite the fact that she had no interest in boys, she quite adored the attention. Such was no longer the case, and she instead felt pity for the young man who clearly had not found himself a girlfriend.

The amount of stress most people would experience in a decade had dragged Kyouko down over the last three years, but she was still young. In comparison to her newfound psychological cynicism, her physical appearance was largely unaffected, at least in the eye of a stranger. Day-to-day colleagues were no less imperceptive, and it was not until an _old_ friend had arrived that her thinner hair and less lively skin tone were picked up on. The long-awaited visit from Chinatsu had been unfortunately uneventful by Kyouko's definition, although the pink-haired girl left feeling satisfied with the level of conversation regarding work and other boring life stuff, as well as pleasantly surprised at Kyouko's calmness and "maturity," as she saw it.

Home was only a matter of blocks from the train station, and Kyouko decided her remaining travel time shall be best spent in reminiscence of all the things she must have neglected recently. After that decision, she mentally questioned why she, Toshinou Kyouko, was wasting time thinking about things and not going out and doing something. Thus, a familiar train of thought as of late began its rounds yet again, with quips like, _"You're not as fun as you used to be..."_

 _"But wait, writing manga is fun, and I can buy almost anything I want,"_ she tried to reassure herself. _"But... When was the last time I watched Mirakurun?"_ Mirakurun was the inspiration behind making doujinshi in the first place, or in other words, the entire reason she had this career. _"No, that doesn't matter. I was bound to grow out of it anyway..."_ Kyouko tried desperately to regain confidence in herself that she was _being_ herself, but it was a losing battle. _She didn't feel like Kyouko._

"When was the last time I talked to Yui?" she pondered aloud.

 _"Well, it was... a few weeks ago, right? No, less than that. No no no, I remember! She was telling me about the new game coming out that week. Yeah... I'm sure of it, that was the last time I called her. It wasn't very long ago, was it?"_ Kyouko pulled her smart phone from the pocket of her jacket and performed a web search of the title of that game. Finding the release date, she realized it to be in August... over two months ago. In disbelief, she tried to check her call history, but as usual, everything over a week old had been deleted. Her call history and voice mailbox always filled up far too quickly, mostly due to her editor and publishers, occasionally because of events like conventions, interviews, and the like, and apparently very, _very_ rarely from her friends.

Kyouko had cried when her mother died, seemingly for days and days. She had cried in the arms of each of her best friends at one time or another. She cried the most before all that, when she first had to leave school, when her mother was in poor health and she was forced to leave her friends behind. It seemed like as the years went by, there were fewer and fewer things still around to cry about, so it may come as a surprise to know that during that walk home Kyouko took a detour around the block to a nearby park, found a shaded, secluded bench off the main path, and sat down and cried. She cried for Yui, whom she knew so distantly now that their friendship might as well be called dead. She sobbed thinking about Chinatsu, and how it seemed she only came around any more out of obligation, as if Kyouko were a dying elder in the family - not a true friend. She even thought of Akari, whom she hadn't spoken to in the longest time.

There had been no tears of joy when her agent called with the news that her manga was being picked up; she hadn't jumped up and down in ecstasy, or called Yui with that huge grin her friend could practically see through the phone. In fact, she hardly reacted at all, and simply thanked the man for the opportunity. The truth was, Kyouko had skipped out on being Kyouko, stashing her emotions away in favor of completing the tasks at hand. Her friends were far away, and her family was all but gone, so it hadn't occured to her that these achievements should be celebrated; what's the point, after all?

Three years of lassitude and indifference were culminating into this single outburst of emotion, as if every time she didn't cry over something was being made up for now. Every happy moment gone unenjoyed was being recounted and relived in this one, and it had never felt so good to cry before. Joy and love and anger and defeat all melted into one euphoric sensation: a wondrous event of release which pooled in the corners of her eyes and fell to the cool Autumn sidewalk between her feet. Like a disease stubbornly embedded inside her all this time, the tears dripped away, and the space they once occupied inside her heart was freed up for emotions once again. It was like a cleansing, or the removal of a parasite, and she stayed until every tear of the past three years was gone.

* * *

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the yellow strands of hair surrounding her colorful, faint red cheeks seemed brighter than before. Her glistening ocean-blue pupils shone rays of youth into her path and, disregarding the minor redness surrounding her eyelids, Toshinou Kyouko was a picture of happiness. Stares from passers-by helped her assure herself of her radiance. In performing the second to last turn of her trip, Kyouko would make one last resolution. She was going to call Yui.

Home was still some three blocks away, and the remaining walking time was bound to be occupied with anticipation of the phone call she would make upon arrival, and predictions and plans for the looming conversation. First Kyouko had felt relief like never before, and now excitement splashed waves of jittering anxiety throughout her renewed limbs. This day may have been an emotional rollercoaster ride, but it was overwhelmingly positive for a girl who had hardly cracked a smile in who knows how long.

So while approaching the corner at which she would make the final turn, onto her home street, Toshinou Kyouko was decided in her plan of action, and confident in her absolution to turn over a new leaf. She would begin by sincerely apologizing to her dearest friend for her irresponsibility, honestly reveal her deep depression coupled with emotional absence, and lay down her expectations for life going forward. She _needed_ Yui to play a major role in her life again, and hoped and prayed that full disclosure over the telephone would be enough for Yui to understand the gravity of Kyouko's perspective. Vehicle traffic was heavy that day, but oddly enough the pedestrian traffic in her neighborhood was relatively low. The light opposite her signaled "Walk" so she did, albeit alone as nobody else elected to cross this particular street at this particular time.

 _"Maybe Yui will want to move to Tokyo..."_ The thought of having a roommate again made Kyouko feel giddy, a sensation forgotten for far too long. _"No, I shouldn't get excited yet. Then I'll just end up disappointed."_ The mature side of her personality butted in for a remark, but it fell on deaf ears as the blonde output no effort into containing her good mood. She gleefully skipped along the crosswalk, a move akin to a middle-schooler ten years younger, but not inappropriate for Kyouko.

The city bus, with squealing tires and a blaring horn, and its driver who had been daydreaming and probably dozing off, not seeing the stoplight until too late, stole Kyouko's thoughts away from the song she had been singing in her head. Her timing was dreadfully immaculate, and the safety of a curb found itself an impossibly long five steps away. The barrier of another car was roughly one step closer, but in the wrong direction, and with this little warning, stopping to turn was out of the question. Toshinou Kyouko was trapped in the headlights of impending doom, and at the same time she leaned forward to run, her life flashed before her eyes.

She was reminded of all the radical changes she had undergone as a child, and how the adjustments in her home life were reflected in her developing personality; once she and her mother finally settled down and Kyouko began making friends, she steadily gained confidence year after year until finally coming out of her shell around the time they entered middle school. Meanwhile, her right foot pounded into the pavement and lunged the petite body forward. The bus was close enough now that had she looked, Kyouko could have seen directly into the driver's eyes. He was frantically smashing the brake pedal with his own right leg, desperately pulling the steering wheel away from her.

Middle school would always be the best time of her life. Ah, how she missed the Amusement Club. What she wouldn't give to go back to the days of lazing around Yui's apartment, watching the weeks fly by without a care in the world. Even into their high school years, life was so much more simple. Just the thought of it was bliss when compared to the work and responsibilities of being an adult. Her weaker left foot stretched and contacted the hard ground in a lunge worth all the strength she could muster, although it looked to be too little, too late.

Kyouko envisioned her mother once again, and the image of that tired face saying goodbye burned into her very core as intensely as the day it happened. The sensation of her frail hand releasing its grip felt all too real to be a recollection. Tears streamed down Kyouko's face not only due to the inevitability of her own demise, but because of her memories. Her memory bank must have been robbed, because anything remotely positive that _might_ have happened in the past five years could not be recalled now. All of them, so bitter.

A third step never came. In the closing seconds of her life, Kyouko only conjured one thought. One face, with one phrase to speak, whose scent swirled around her and whose voice comforted Kyouko now just like it always had. Kyouko never had the opportunity to apologize for being distant, or to make up for lost time. However, the memories of over a decade of love and happiness would remain forever, and so long as all her friends had those, nothing could end on a negative note, and nobody could be left feeling truly _empty_. Yui's reassuring touch of her hand made everything okay, if only in her mind. Because really, everything was okay.

In the end.

* * *

 **...**

Well, that was different. One day I had this idea spontaneously, so I wrote it, right then and there, in a matter of hours. Melodramatic and void of imagery and detail, this story plays a lot on the reader's imagination, so if you don't get into it, it will do nothing for you.

Shamelessly updated to change the title and fix a few minor grammatical errors.


End file.
